


Not Fate, but Potential

by phillipa_gordon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (debatably), (or discussion of them anyway), Derek Has Issues, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Isaac is a sassy little shit, Light Angst, M/M, Mates, Oblivious Stiles, Pack Nights, Party, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Pining Derek, Pizza, Scott is a Good Friend, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 04:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phillipa_gordon/pseuds/phillipa_gordon
Summary: He’s so sure he’ll never fall again that by the time he realises he’s in love with Stiles, it’s already much too late.ORThe pack is all grown up, and decide to try and get Derek and Stiles to finally admit their feelings for each other. That’s it. That’s the fic.





	Not Fate, but Potential

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little bit of fluff + angst + lack of any substantial plot, with a side-serving of character study. Unbeta-d, so apologies for mistakes.  
> Also, this is kind of inspired by “To Be Worthy of Hope” which is an amazing fic, and in the unlikely event that you haven’t read it already, you should go do that now.

When Derek was in New York, he’d had a lot of time to think.

He decided then, over the long, torturous months where he and Laura shared their tiny apartment, that he’d never fall in love again. It wasn’t just that his pack was gone; it was that he’d _trusted_ , he’d _loved_ Kate, and she’d destroyed everything. His skin still felt raw, like the pain of losing his pack was etched on it, sensitive to every moment of loneliness. There were days when all he and Laura could do was curl up together on the couch, TV playing muted in the background, and pretend that they couldn’t smell the overwhelming loss emanating from both of them.

When he’d gone back to Beacon Hills, having lost her too, he thought it couldn’t possibly happen again. His walls were already so high, too high to be vulnerable to (or with) anyone, that he became almost complacent.

Then there was Jennifer.

He…he hadn’t really _loved_ her. Not yet. But his stupid, traitorous fucking heart had _liked_ her, had trusted her, and that was enough for it all to go to shit, _again_. After that, he resolved to ignore attraction, eschew trust, and never, _ever_ be vulnerable again. He rebuilds his pack, tries to help them heal without getting too emotionally invested. His betas respect him, but they don’t really trust him fully. It makes it difficult for the pack to bond as a cohesive unit, but he insists on extra training, on magical reinforcement from Deaton, and more structured alliances and treaties with the Argents. The pack could have achieved this level of strength and safety with one quarter of the work if he was able to show vulnerability or trust, but those aren’t options for him. Not any more. He’s shut himself away so carefully that he’s resigned himself to never having a true confidant ever again.

He’s so sure he’ll never fall again that by the time he realises he’s in love with Stiles, it’s already much too late.

It happens so slowly, so gradually, that he doesn’t realise he even trusts Stiles until he calls at 1am just to talk, not even about something life-threatening. He’s so horrified at himself for his weakness that he avoids Stiles for two weeks after, and would have done so for longer if Stiles hadn’t cornered him at Walmart and tried to shove him into the frozen peas for being ‘such an untrusting _ass_ , _oh my god_ ’. He realises he’s attracted to Stiles two months later, when Stiles stumbles into the loft, soaking wet t-shirt clinging to his skin. He dries off with a towel from the linen closet (and honestly, the linen closet only exists because Stiles insisted he needed one to be a ‘fully functioning member of society’), and his cheeks pink up from the abrasion when he rubs it over his face. The swooping in Derek’s gut sets off a warning bell in his head, but he refuses to think about it right now, not when Scott is giving him a look that’s already far too knowing.

The kid still annoys the hell out of him though. Not that he’s a kid any more—he’s well and truly legal by now, thank god—but the last, futile hope that Derek clings to is that at least he’s not _in love_. He may trust Stiles. He may be involuntarily attracted to him. But at least it’s not _love_.

He should have known better than to jinx it.

*             *             *             *             *

Derek is at a party. More specifically, Erica’s 21st. But it doesn’t really matter, because all he can focus on right now is Stiles, who’s back from college for the weekend. He’s older and broader and more settled than when they’d first met, but his eyes are still the same and Derek is taken by surprise all over again how strongly his heart simultaneously soars and drops at the sight of him.

He’s radiant. And beautiful. And inaccessible.

Derek ends up taking refuge in the relative quiet of the sofa by the window. Boyd eventually joins him and they talk a little bit about baseball, in between bouts of comfortable silence, until Erica comes over and drops into Boyd’s lap. She turns to Derek.

“Can you give Stiles a lift home later? He’s catching up with his dad tomorrow morning, and Scott was going to be DD but…” She smirks over at where Isaac and Scott are doing wolfsbane infused vodka shots, “…it looks like Scott has other ideas.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Erica, I have better things to do than drive drunk 20-somethings home.”

“You also have better things to do than pine after Stiles, but that doesn’t seem to stop you.” She turns back to Boyd as Derek starts to splutter.

“I…I don’t _pine_!!”

“Whatever you say, sweetie.”

Derek glares at her, but the sound of Stiles crashing around in the kitchen distracts him, and he loses a few moments staring at Stiles as he goofs around with Kira.

Erica clears her throat pointedly. Derek tears his gaze away reluctantly and tries for: “Why can’t Boyd drive him?”

“I have _plans_ with Boyd. Besides, you’re looking for an excuse, I know it.” She grins in a predatory manner that reminds Derek distinctly of Laura.

“I’m the alpha, you can’t boss me.” He realises belatedly how juvenile that sounds.

“I think you’ll find I can. Now scram, I have things to do. Namely, Boyd. Have fun with Stiles!” She jumps up and flounces off, dragging Boyd along behind her.

Derek manages to put up with the party for another hour and a half before he decides he can’t stand to stay any longer. Besides, the night is beginning to wind down a bit, and he does _not_ want to end up on clean-up duty.

“Hey Derek!” Stiles’ crows, slinging an arm around Derek’s shoulders. His arm is warm and heavy, and Derek tries not to remember that this is the first time he’s been touched in a genuinely affectionate way in months.

“Hey.”

“Dude, _dude_ , you should come and do body shots! I bet that would—“

“I’m not doing body shots, Stiles.”

“Well, we’re doing something! Lets get this party hopping again.” He starts waving his free arm in what might generously be deemed to be a dance-y manner.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Let’s get you home.”

“Nooo, stay at the party!! Erica’ll be disappointed!!”

“It’s pretty much over. Anyway, she’s the one who said I should take you home.”

Stiles stiffens a little at that. “What?”

“All the others are too drunk to drive, and she said you have something with your dad early tomorrow?”

“Oh. Right. But Scott was gonna…”

“Scott has had so many shots there’s probably more alcohol in his bloodstream than there is blood. He’s having a howling competition with Isaac in the bathroom.”

Stiles scowls. “Worst DD ever.”

Derek just rolls his eyes, and starts hustling Stiles towards the door.

“Not so fast, wolfman!”

“I’m leaving now. You either leave now, or miss breakfast with your dad.”

“Ergh, fine. But we’re getting food on the way home.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes! Yes infinity!” Stiles grins at him like he’s just made a brilliant logical argument that Derek can’t possibly refute. Derek definitely isn’t giving in to that.

“Okay.”

Dammit.

*             *             *             *             *

They get takeout on the way home from a 24 hour diner off the main street. Stiles is uncharacteristically quiet for the ride home, but he speaks when Derek goes to help him up the stairs to his room.

“I’m not actually that drunk, y’know. Just…tired.”

“I know.” The moon is the only source of light, and in the quiet hallway it feels like time has slowed to half its usual pace. It’s peaceful.

He walks Stiles up the stairs. He hesitates at the door to the bedroom when Stiles stumbles to sit on the bed, but Stiles pats the spot next to him like they do this all the time, and Derek finds himself shuffling over to sit down next to him. Stiles seems surprised but pleased at that.

“Sorry, dude. I just kinda want to…vent. Because Scott doesn’t really seem to get it.” Derek doesn’t say anything, but shuffles back until he’s leaning against the wall, which Stiles interprets correctly as an invitation to continue. “Just…college, man. It’s exhausting. Not so much the study, but keeping secrets, y’know? It’s hard to make friends when you have this while other life you can’t tell them about. It’s starting to drain my soul a bit.”

Derek sighs. “Yeah.”

Stiles turns and eyes him contemplatively. “I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. Fuck, I’m surprised you haven’t gone insane.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, seriously dude. You’ve managed to keep going. Even though you haven’t been able to trust people, you just keep trying to hold things together. And you don’t even seem to trust _yourself_ half the time. But you’re still here. Man, am I glad you’re still here.”

“Trust isn’t…necessary.” Derek pauses for a moment, as Stiles turns to look at him. He takes a deep breath, and adds: “It’s so much more tiring though. When you can’t trust anyone.”

“I wish you trusted me.” Stiles blinks at him, wide and slow.

“I…I do.” Derek is surprised how easily the words leave his mouth.

Stiles stares at him for a moment. “That wasn’t a lie.”

“I thought _I_ was supposed to be the human lie detector,” he huffs.  Something about sitting here in the dark with Stiles makes it so much easier to just settle, to relax for what feels like the first time in years.

A slow smile spreads over Stiles’ face. “You don’t trust anyone, and, dude, I totally get that. You have more reason than most people not to trust anyone. But…” he sighs, and leans in to Derek’s side, voice beginning to slur with sleep, “you trust me. ‘M glad. S’not good to be so alone.”

There’s no possible way to respond to that, so Derek doesn’t. He doesn’t move, though. He stays there until well after Stiles has fallen asleep, listening to the steady drum of his heart.

And, just like that…he knows it’s already far, far too late.

*             *             *             *             *

The next pack meeting is relaxed. There’s not much going on, and halfway through, Isaac orders pizza. Derek still doesn’t quite know what to do these days without a weekly threat to try and defeat, and he’s almost absentminded when he says, “Any other questions?” as the pack tuck into the pizzas Erica has just collected from the door.

That might be why he feels completely blindsided when Scott abandons his pursuit of pizza for a moment and says, “Are mates a thing?”

The others all turn to Scott, who looks doggedly determined as he insists “Derek said ‘anything’!!”

“What.” Derek can’t believe this is his life now.

“What?! It’s a perfectly legitimate question!” (Derek is reluctantly impressed that Scott used the word ‘legitimate’ correctly in a sentence). “Are soulmates really that much more far-fetched than werewolves? I was just thinking, you know, when you meet someone…whether there was some way to tell.”

“No.”

“Really?” Scott looks so disappointed it’s actually funny.

 “Yes. There’s no such thing.”

“Dude, I already told you this!” pipes up Stiles, then blushes for some reason.

Scott still seems determined. “But…I was thinking about it and it would make sense, right?! And you might recognise them by their scent, it wouldn’t even have to be like—“

“No, what the hell is wrong with you, man?!” Stiles interrupts, giving Scott a weird look, like he’s trying to get Scott to shut up.

Derek’s heart clenches, but he ignores it. “Soulmates don’t exist.”

Boyd eyes him suspiciously. “Soulmates don’t. But I think Scott’s original question was about _mates_.” Damn Boyd and his observational skills. Derek was relying on Scott’s lack of attention to detail to avoid this.

Scott’s eyes widen earnestly. “Wait, there’s a difference?!”

“Of course there’s a fucking difference. Soulmates don’t exist.”

“Mates _do_ exist, then?!”

Derek crosses his arms and glares at Scott, but apparently that’s _way_ less effective than it used to be.

Lydia, who has been watching the proceedings with immaculately schooled disinterest abruptly snaps out of it to turn her focus on Derek. He barely has time to be appropriately terrified before:

“Is a mate only a mate once the relationship has been consummated?”

Isaac snorts loudly and Stiles chokes on his pizza. Flustered, Derek splutters out “No!! It doesn’t work like that…” before he can stop himself.

Lydia looks unutterably smug. “How does it work, then?” She says, sweetly.

Derek briefly considers lying, but he’s pretty sure that’ll just make the entire conversation even more painful than it already is. “It’s just…it’s not fate, or anything. It’s just compatibility. Potential.” He studiously avoids looking at Stiles.

Scott frowns, but after a pause asks: “Potential?”

Derek sighs. “With the wolf side, as well as the human one. But that still doesn’t mean it’s fate. It’s just…the potential, for something deeper.”

“So you’re not destined to be with one specific person, but once you meet someone there’s sometimes more than just normal compatibility?”

Derek desperately wants this conversation to be over already, so settles for nodding curtly. There’s a couple of seconds of silence, then Stiles gets up abruptly, mumbles “Bathroom,” and exits, nearly tripping over the coffee table on the way out.

There are several more seconds of silence, before Scott pipes up again: “So, you and St--?”

 _Nope_.

“We’re done with this conversation.”

Derek expects him to look triumphant, but instead he just looks sad. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“I don’t see why that should matter.” His voice sounds small and lost, even to his own ears. And _shit_ , _none_ of the pack looks even slightly surprised. Does that mean _Stiles_ …knows?

“Does he…uh…?”

“Don’t worry, he’s just as oblivious as you,” says Lydia, rolling her eyes.

“Good. That’s…good.” Derek tries to swallow the lump in his throat, and glares at the table top.

“Oh, honey!” crows Erica, and pats him on the head mockingly.

*             *             *             *             *

He and Isaac are having breakfast the next day when he hears a car pull up outside. Isaac looks up. “Is that…?”

“Scott.”

Derek gets hastily to his feet, and makes a beeline for the stairs. He knows Scott will know he’s there, but he’s hoping Scott will respect his personal space.

Yeah…that’s not going to happen.

Scott comes clattering in, with all the grace and elegance of, well, Scott.

“Hey man! How’s it going? Where’s Derek?”

“Derek is…unavailable,” says Isaac. Bless Isaac.

“What? Why?”

“He’s busy brooding.” Okay, no. Curse Isaac.

“Isn’t he always doing that?”

“Yeah, but he’s figured out that his big gay secret is way bigger, gayer and less secret than he thought it was. He’s trying to pretend he’s not having a crisis over it.”

Scott makes a noise that could mean either ‘I understand’ or ‘I’m imitating a Neanderthal’. It’s always terribly hard to tell with Scott. Footsteps echo up the stairs, and Scott appears. “Hey, Derek.”

Derek doesn’t respond. That doesn’t deter Scott though.

“I just wanted to say it’s okay. We’ve always known you liked Stiles, so this won’t change anything. We’ll still respect you,” (Derek snorts), “And I’m pretty sure Stiles doesn’t know, anyway.”

 “Why are you even here, then?” Derek rounds on him, “Why does it matter?!”

“Because I want my best friend and my Alpha to be happy, and to be like that because they chose it. Stiles wants you, but he’s not going to do anything about it unless he’s sure you want it too. I’m just not sure whether you’re not doing anything about it because you think you don’t deserve to be happy, or if it’s just that you’re chickenshit.”

“It’s not…he’s…I’m not chickenshit!” Derek eventually manages to spit out.

“Prove it.”

“It’s none of your fucking business, Scott!”

“Maybe not, but it _is_ Stiles’.” He fixes his best ‘stern’ face on Derek. “You’ve been pining after each other for _at least_ a year, don’t you think it’s time to do something about it?!”

“A year?” Derek says, weakly.

“Yeah,” pipes up Isaac, “and Scott was the _last_ of us to figure it out.”

Scott grimaces. “I’m making up for it now, okay?! Basically, please just do something about it. I’m not going to threaten you with anything, except that if you don’t ask him, he might ask you, and Stiles watches way too many movies, so the result may be a little more…extravagant, than you might like. ”

“Also, the rest of us may start to go insane if you don’t stop with the pining heart-eyes soon.” Isaac butts in again.

“No. absolutely not.”

But he’s thinking about it. If he’s being honest, he’s been thinking about it more a while. And the more he thinks about it, the more it seems worth the risk.

 _Dammit_.

*             *             *             *             *

Derek’s palms are sweating as he climbs the stairwell to Stiles’ apartment. He nearly growls at the janitor, and by the time he’s reached the third floor, he’s tempted to just turn back and go straight home, bouquet of roses be damned. He forces himself to stand in front of Stiles’ door, and just stares at it for a full three minutes before finally mustering up the courage to knock.

Stiles clatters to the door and wrenches it open. He blinks.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

Ten seconds of silence. Derek _knows_ what he wants to say, but it Just. Won’t. Come. Out.

Stiles eventually breaks the silence. ‘So, uh…is there a reason you’ve knocked on my door and are now standing there not saying anything? I mean, feel free, but…’ He trails off. ‘Are those…flowers?’

Derek opens his mouth, but his voice is croaky on the first attempt, and he has to clear his throat and start again. ‘Y…Yes. Roses. For you.’ He shoves them at Stiles, suddenly feeling very red in the face.

Stiles stares at him for a second. ‘Roses?’

‘Yes. For you.’ Derek is screwing this up, dammit. ‘I…they’re for you. Because I appreciate you. And I like you. And…’ He takes a deep breath, ‘I’d like to ask you out.’

Stiles is gaping now. ‘Like a date?’

‘Yes, like a date.’

‘A date? A _date_ date? With me?’

Derek rolls his eyes. ‘Yes, with you. I mean, you can say no. I’d just…really, really like it if you said yes.’

Stiles’ grin is so sudden and blinding that Derek almost reels backwards with the force of it.

‘Oh my god, yes! Absolutely! Just let me get my coat!’ He finally grabs the bouquet out of Derek’s hands, and dashes back inside.

‘What? I...I didn’t mean right now!’

‘Well I do!’ Stiles hollers from the other room. ‘Is the diner in town alright with you? I know you love their hamburgers.’ He reappears, coat thrown over his shoulders, and shuts the apartment door behind him, before turning to Derek. ‘Does this mean we get to kiss now? Because, not gonna lie, I’ve been ready for that to happen for at least two years.’

Derek can feel himself blushing again, and it’s like he’s a damn teenager again. ‘Yeah. I’d like that.’

Stiles smiles at him again, this time small and private, and Derek feels something settle in his chest as their lips brush. When he pulls away, Stiles says, quietly, “Thank you. For trusting me.”

He doesn’t even think of objecting when Stiles threads their fingers together as they retreat down the stairwell.


End file.
